


Running With Wolves

by WindwiseWords



Series: Clone Culture [10]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Hiding in Plain Sight, Implied Relationships, Order 66, Order 66 Didn't Go as Planned, Post-Order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindwiseWords/pseuds/WindwiseWords
Summary: Wolffe and Plo Koon head back to Coruscant to find the men Wolffe needed to function. Plo finds a surprise.





	Running With Wolves

The smoke that clouded the departure from Kamino forced Plo to look away. Take off escorted by three clone ships gave Plo a taste of the prison his men knew as lives, claiming for the first time that freedom in gulps instead of small tastes. But for all the freedom offered to Commander Wolffe, the clone was at his side once again. 

“You didn’t have to go with me, sir.” Wolffe insisted several times, offering a rain wrap the night guards used to keep off the icy water. Plo still had it on, and it smelled of clones despite being clean, and it reminded him of how many wore this on those cold nights. Thin, just enough to shed the worst of the storms.

“I want to, Commander. This is my mistake, and I intend to correct it.” Plo stared at the man that would, no, had given his life for him. Now a new era dawned for the clones, and being the primary army and increasingly gaining civilian support, things swung in their favor. 

Wolffe adverted his eyes as he felt them meet, still upset about the damages he caused to his dear General. For what all may say, he wasn’t indoctrinated, just infatuated. A soft blush heated his face still spotted with rain, and he put his helmet on as per protocol for exiting the atmosphere.

 

Coruscant looked under siege, the damage done from breaking clones free of restraint and capturing corrupt officials leaving smoking holes and piles of once glorious buildings. With the infrastructure falling, Wolffe couldn’t help but notice his brothers in their white armor picking among rubble and still performing their duty. In the end, they all realized they had a duty to those that didn’t know any better of the war. Spoon-fed propaganda, these citizens deserved the truth.

Wolffe turned away, and felt a heavy hand on his bucket. Plo, pulling him to his shoulder and wrapping a surprisingly strong arm around him. Who was comforting who was left to be decided as they had to pull away and exit the transport. Wolffe went up to check the pilots would pick up injured brothers and fly straight back to Kamino. What once became their coffin was now their best chance for survival.

“I am appreciative for the ride.” Plo called, shuffled out by Wolffe who didn’t want Plo to see thanks embarrassed the poor pilots. He’d never seen a transport zip away so fast. 

The barracks. Population: thousands. Wolffe waded through the landing deck, greeting brothers he knew and didn’t, checking on those laying out under tents and slated for immediate evac. Checking bodies, and to maybe only Plo’s knowledge and a handful of others there, checking scents. 

Wolffe was no modified clone, not purposefully given an increased sense of smell. For whatever reason, the genes that messed with logic gates in their heads gave a percentage of his crew sharper noses that benefited them for recognition. For Wolffe, it saved many from setting off his aggression by surprising him. For Plo, he had many trackers for running down escapees. 

“Wolffe.” Plo stated softly, helping cover back a body with the same dyed stripes of hair as Boost, blue instead of red. “Why don’t we check the bunks?” He saw that feral breaking in his poor Commander again, who simply followed him obediently as ever. A rock in the storm, but Plo wondered if he could hold up now that the rigid structure had fallen.

The barracks were left empty, a strange sight that creeped them both out. Wolffe hit the lights, which came on in rows of three along the middle. No bodies, which Wolffe was relieved to find, but his nose pulled him toward the set of eight bunks he and his team called home on Coruscant. A boot sock with a number, a second flight helmet, some tools and a tinkered on mouse droid. Some books, sneakily stashed between the mattress and the grate of the bunk. Wolffe sat down and collected it all, the mouse droid being switched on. It beeped and instead of scuttling away, circled Wolffe like a pet. He did not smile, but patted the thing. 

It felt so private, the entire scene of a commander with his lost team’s things. Plo looked away, giving Wolffe privacy. What he didn’t expect was the mouse droid to come and butt up against his boot. 

“No, don’t go doing that. That’s the general.” The droid made an ‘ooooo’ sort of sound and slinked back. “Sorry sir. It’s not quite made right yet. One of Warthog’s projects…” 

“I was unaware he was trained in droid repair and modification.” Plo turned back and came over to examine the small droid, seeing the sheepishness in Wolffe. “He wasn’t.”

“We had access to research, and what we didn’t have we… Borrowed.” Books, datapads, he began to pull out in stacks from the bunks. How they slept on them Plo wouldn’t know. Except he did; sleep on them or lose them. “I’ll return them. Going to be one hell of a library fine.” 

“I think the library was destroyed.” Plo said softly. “I don’t think they’d mind you hanging on to them for the time being. Perhaps copy them?” Old ways of storing information, kept as back ups in case something like this happened. With the information net down, and potentially loss of servers entirely, Plo didn’t doubt that the library needed salvaged for future generations.

Wolffe picked up the helmet, staring into the visor. “I’ll take my men. We’ll house the information on Kamino, where nothing can harm it.” Take it where there were the most clones. “We’ll have to build a new wing for it. For all the troopers. Like the Temple library for common citizens.” 

Plo perked. “You intend to open the station for public transit?” Wolffe nodded, and after collecting the things into a backpack and starting to strap up weaponry left behind, he put the mouse droid on the bed.

“Stay and tell them if they come back here that we came by.” The droid parroted back his voice. “Good. Keep yourself hidden.” The droid scurried under the mattress. Shouldering the pack, Wolffe turned his helmet up and sniffed lightly a few times, tracking day old smells through the corridors. 

Plo kept up well, until his commander broke into a dead sprint. Past the flight deck and out toward the bridges spanning the complex and over the flight lanes, through the brothers that tried to stop Plo from following him but he cleared them in a leap. When their warnings did nothing to deter Wolffe, they left them be. Wolffe hit the bridge at a dead sprint, no fear for the lack of railings or energy netting. Plo felt desperation leak into the force, and to his horror Wolffe threw himself over the edge of the bridge. Plo lunged to follow him, claws latching on the edge, but his commander was nowhere to be seen. 

“Sir, this way!” A call halfway down the bridge, Wolffe using the rungs underneath to swing his way across to a service platform.

When they both hit the metal, Plo felt a sense of irritation in Wolffe. Boot marks, but he couldn’t tell whose without getting down on all fours and investigating. He eyed Plo, and sort of guiltily looked away. Acting like an animal was no stranger to Wolffe. Acting like that in front of Plo drove a wedge of tingling shame through his spine and into his chest. 

“I will not judge differently.” Plo stated, then turned away to allow Wolffe the privacy to sniff as he saw fit. A sneeze later, and Wolffe popped up.

“This was them. Their boots. I can smell Boost.” Plo managed a chuckle at that, knowing well Boost avoided the showers when he could. “This way, sir!” He dashed around the platform and to a small maintenance hatch, kicking it open and sliding inside. Plo slipped in after him, replacing the hatch closed and rushing for the commander. 

“Wolffe, where are we going?” He’d never been this way, and Wolffe offered no explanation. A handprint on a dusty wall, small lines where armor edges scraped the tunnel, and of course scent led them to an open space.  
Chairs, some more books, a stash of magazines of questionable content. Ration bar packs. And four wide-eyed troopers with guns trained on Wolffe. 

Plo resisted the urge to react aggressively as Wolffe barreled into them and was received with smacks and punches, then hugs. The troopers toppled over into a mess of patting each other down for injuries and checking to see if anyone was starved or sick. In the end, satisfied the pack was together again, the clones turned to their General, eyes suspicious and worried. Wolffe even seemed concerned that now that he had them, Plo may turn them all in to be chained with other clones subdued by the Jedi.

Plo raised his hands, claws up where they could see him. He shuffled the shawl away in such a fashion they could see his saber and gauntlet on each hip. “I am not here to harm you. You are… You were my soldiers. My men.”

Silence greeted his words, and so Plo continued. “I do not agree that you are trying to overtake or destroy. You are taking your birthright as sentient creatures to freedom.” Plo stepped away from the entrance to the tunnel, putting himself against a wall in the small space. “Go, and find the rest of the 104th. Set them free, and go back to Kamino. You will be safer there than here.”

More silence, until finally Warthog spoke up. “That an order, sir?” A loaded question, but Plo met it head on.

“My last one to you is to find my boys and keep them safe. That includes yourselves. But I don’t really need to order you to do that, do I?” The troopers smiled, even Wolffe, and began to peel themselves away from each other. Sinker and Boost flanked Wolffe, and they all began to head for backpacks to pack up their belongings they managed to save. Tools, weapons, datapads and old fashioned books. Plo never really watched them prepare for missions. It would be something of an insult, like a master over their padawan. 

When they were done, they headed out. The last one out was Wolffe, who gestured to follow. They were off at a sprint, Sinker leading the charge and Wolffe bringing up the rear with Plo on his heel. A second tunnel, taking them through the bridge maintenance network and out onto a catwalk. They knew this space well, and bootmarks told Plo others did as well. 

There was little talking, all chatter done through the coms and even that was limited. Sinker took the to the far side of the catwalk and skidded to a halt, Comet and Warthog slamming into the back of Boost who glared.   
“Watch it… Sir, if you would?” Wolffe approached calmly to a pincoded maintenance hatch, entering in a series of numbers. Plo did not see which, blocked by the crowding of the troopers to get inside. Once in, there was the distinct scent of clones that went past the faint range only those with advanced senses of smell could detect. Barracks, it smelled like the barracks. 

Dampness creeped into the air with the scent, and as Sinker took them deeper into a support structure for the many towers above, Plo realized exactly how little he knew of his own men. A camp, one that looked quite professionally done, too much so to have been done in the last few weeks before the fall. 

“You planned for this.” Plo said softly. “You expected it.” 

“Rex warned me, and so did Kix. I managed to convince enough of the battalion to spend some off hours down here working on a shelter. We were going to hide out until Coruscant fell, then take off for Wild Space.” Wolffe refused to meet Plo’s eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. We couldn’t tell you. But we were… Going to take you with us.” 

How they’d accomplish that, they didn’t say. Plo did find himself greeted by a mix of worried, angry, and relieved stares. Some saluted as they headed down the spiraling walks, made smooth by platforms of crates soldered down. Sinker and Boost fell back to flank Plo, guarding him from the more aggressive brothers. Several had patches over the side of their head, the chip removed before they went into hiding. Injured soldiers kept under armed guard. Nobody was out of armor. 

It was the war but worse, because now they were the hunted instead of hunters. 

Wolffe feel easily back into command, muttering some orders to various troopers as they made their way to their own platform. A small curtained area with only a few bunks, but they were at ease with sharing. Plo knew that much.

“What is the plan now, Wolffe?” Comet asked, taking the helmet offered to him from Wolffe’s pack. Wolffe handed out the other things.

“I told the mouse droid to wait for us. Our barracks are secured, but with so many injured, if we move all at once there is going to be pressure on those catwalks and we’ll be seen. And caught.” Wolffe eyed Plo, then went back to his plan. “We have to get a population in the barracks beforehand. I want you two to head out and get Comet into the sky anyway you can.” Sinker and Boost nodded. Wolffe looked into the eyes of his own helmet. “I’m going to get us out of here, boys. All of us. No wild space though. We’re going home.” 

Smiles and relief all around, though eyes fell on Plo. “You don’t have to go with us. But we want you to come… They may be scared and angry now, but that’ll pass when they see you on our side.” Warthog told Plo pointedly.

Plo considered the offer, then chuckled quietly. “I believe someone needs to draw attention away from this area if this is going to work. I can redirect attention… Not all Jedi agree with the restraint protocols. Obi-Wan and Anakin are already working on this. Sha Koon is also assisting.”

Wolffe tilted his head and hummed. He forgot about Plo’s niece. “Well. If that’s the case, I want each squad to take a few injured troopers per run, and send one soldier back to confirm they made it. Radio silence would be best.”

 

Planning went on for about an hour, and by the time they were interrupted, it was for food. Ration packs, made into a mush with some meat broth of some kind. Wolffe ate quickly, then looked at Plo with some guilt. 

“I best go to the temple. I will not tell them of this place, nor will I come back here unescorted. Wolffe.” The soldier snapped to attention. “I am not going to abandon the 104th. I will be back in time, and I will keep in touch. Keep them safe. I will do my part to make sure that is possible.”

Plo turned to leave, but as he did he was sandwiched in a hug on either side. Boost and Sinker, foreheads pressed to his shoulders. “Thank you, for bringing him home to us, sir…” They looked up, brightness in those brown eyes. “We’ll make sure to bring him home safe again.”

Plo patted their heads and they let go, a bit embarrassed but pleased with the response. As Plo made his way out, he noted that there were a mix of all his men. The teams were mingled, age groups mixed, and even cadets were playing some kind of game with a sock filled with grain, kicking it between their feet. In such a short time they became what they had to hide so long. His men were no longer just soldiers, but living beings. For the first time, Plo realized, they could be as they chose.

When leaving, he brushed the force across the dust of the catwalks, making sure the tunnels were blown dusty again, and the fingerprints on the keypads wiped clean. No mark anyone but himself had been there. He leaped into a freefall, catching himself and slinging his way toward the temple. With his men safe, he now had a larger fight to fight, and a promise to uphold.


End file.
